The numbness had worn away by the lime the truck stopped. My knees burned, my tits ached, my pussy hurt and my throat was raw. I remembered what the older Mexican had said before I passed out. The more I thought about it, the more frightened I became. Could I last till Monday? That was a long three days away. Where would they send me if I did?

The truck doors swung open and I was pulled out. I was shaking so bad I could hardly keep my balance. Sharp pain tingled through my arms and shoulders.

I was dragged down a long corridor. I had trouble walking because my panties and hose still clung to my ankles. I was thrown into a room where men stripped and pawed over me again. There was more talk about the price I would bring

when I was shipped south. It hit me like a sledgehammer. I was being sold into slavery! Or I would be, if I lasted through the weekend.

By the time the men finished, I was naked. I caught a single glimpse of myself in a hall minor as I was shoved along. My face was dirty and streaked with tears. My lipstick was smeared. My hair was a mess. Bruises marked my hips and the sides of my tits. Cum was crusted on my chin and thighs.

The men threw me into a closet-like room that stunk to high heaven. I cowered in the corner. I could hear wails and pleading voices of Mexican girls coming from the other closets.

I wasn't in the cell for more than ten minutes before the door opened and I was dragged into the hallway. There were two men. One held me while the other hit me in the stomach. They were there to prepare me for my stay.